All I Want for Christmas
by Lurkch
Summary: Spock and Nyota go Christmas shopping. Nyota has just finished her exams and is experiencing the post-stress giddiness that ensues. Spock, not so much. People keep mistaking him for one of Santa's helpers and he's trying to shop for his mother's gift for a holiday that he doesn't understand or participate in. But Nyota has convinced him to go Christmas shopping, so here he is.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This fic is part of a 2011 Spock/Uhura Christmas fic exchange. Bookdragon01 (who also writes on this site) wanted humour, clever dialogue/descriptions, and Spock not understanding Christmas but not because he's Vulcan. Not wanted: Angst, Spock drunk on chocolate, or Uhura acting Vulcan-ish.

"Mama! Elf, mama!"

Spock triangulated the sound to 3.7 metres behind him. He was determined not to sigh. But this was not the first time today that he had been mistaken for one of Santa's pointy-eared helpers and it was difficult. Particularly since sitting in the food court made him a stationary target. Nyota was seated across from him, picking at the remainder of her French fries and trying to convince him that he should send his mother a Christmas present.

"Maaaaaaama! Elf!"

"Shush, sweetie, mommy's on her comm."

In Spock's limited experience observing human toddlers, this was unlikely to be a compelling argument.

"Maaaam!"

Sometimes being right was not as satisfying as one would think.

He hazarded a glance behind him and was less than pleased to see that the woman, having collected her food order, was moving in their general direction while trying to maintain her grip on her squirming offspring, her meal tray, her comm, and a wheeled child carrier that was full of bags instead of its intended cargo.

When he turned back, Nyota was also looking behind him. She looked somewhat wary—although it was difficult to tell since she also seemed to be suppressing laughter—as the woman stopped at the empty table beside them and put down her tray.

"ELF!" The toddler seemed infinitely pleased at the choice of location and leaned precariously in its mother's grip to grab at Spock with sticky fingers. Spock dodged. This was interpreted as a personal affront.

"Elf, here!"

The demand went unheeded.

"Yes, sweetie, there are elves here. We'll go see Santa after we eat." The harried woman plunked the toddler down in a high chair, oblivious to the real topic of conversation. She tried distracting the child with nutritionally-questionable meat nuggets, but the child was not so easily deterred.

"Elf!" This was accompanied by an accusatory gesture in Spock's direction.

"Sweetie, you have to eat. If you don't, we can't go see Santa and his el—" The woman, having finally followed the toddler's insistent pointing, looked over to see a very dour looking Vulcan. "Oh."

There was a small choking sound from Nyota who was taking an undue interest in the last few French fries and the table top. Spock looked at her disapprovingly. It had as much effect as it had on the toddler.

"Elf!" Triumphant, the child grinned happily at finally getting its message across.

"Umm, no sweetie, he's not an elf."

"Elf," the toddler said again but with less vigour.

"No, sweetie."

"No elf?"

"No."

The child looked doubtful and turned to Spock for confirmation. "Elf?"

"No," he said helpfully, ignoring the fact that by now Nyota's shoulders were shaking with suppressed amusement.

The child looked at Spock suspiciously until its mother distracted it with a sugar-syrup covered meat nugget. Spock decided that this was a good time to leave and gave Nyota no choice but to follow.

"I'm sorry," Nyota said for the third time as they ducked into a bookstore. Her sincerity was somewhat hampered by the fact that she was still occasionally overcome by giggles.

"Evidently."

"No, really. I am."

Spock watched her and waited. After 34 seconds, Nyota started giggling again. This time Spock did sigh.

"How many does that make?" Nyota asked in between giggles.

"Fourteen. Three toddlers, six school-age children, three belligerent teenagers, and two inebriated adults."

Nyota got a mischievous look about her. He raised an eyebrow and waited.

"And a partridge in a pear tree," Nyota finally added, complete with melody. And then grinned unrepentantly.

_Humans._

Spock stepped up to a console and started navigating the book offerings. "I fail to see how a religious observance became a celebration of magical gift-giving elves and their leader."

"It didn't. Some people treat it as a religious observance, some don't. Some people just do gifts. And food." Nyota fell silent. When he waited for her to continue, she shrugged her shoulders and added, "It's not really as superficial as all the commercials make it sound."

"Perhaps."

"_I_ like it and it's not like _I _grew up with it. It's fun," she said pointedly.

"That has not been my experience."

"Then you're not doing it right."

As an explanation it lacked specificity. And actionable steps.

The bookstore console had millions of books. No matter what specifications he entered to narrow the selection, Spock was still left with a list of millions of books. He reconsidered getting his mother a sweater and then dismissed the idea for the same reason he had already dismissed it: a sweater had little utility for a Human on a desert world since she did not venture out at night. His problem-solving was interrupted by movement where there should have been none.

"Nyota."

"Yes?"

"I think you have mistaken my pants' pocket for your own."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Her hand remained in Spock's pocket. He restated his observation as a request.

"Spoilsport," she said, withdrawing her hand. "So, did you find anything?"

"Nothing specific."

"You could always give her one of these book readers." She handed him a slim tablet. The data cartridge contained a collection of popular fiction from the last five centuries.

"When did you find this?"

"Five minutes ago, but you looked busy."

_Humans._

He joined the line up for complimentary gift wrapping.

"I bet I can make you like Christmas."

_Doubtful._

"Ooh, we need to check this out," Nyota exclaimed, grabbing Spock's arm and leading him to a kiosk in the middle of the mall. There was a crowd several people deep around the kiosk, but its wares were obvious enough. Fleece hats of various whimsical configurations—at least Spock assumed Humans found them whimsical, he simply found them garish—covered every flat and vertical surface of the kiosk.

"How about this one?" Nyota asked, picking up a green fleece toque with stuffed reindeer antlers sticking out of it that someone had discarded on the kiosk counter.

Spock subverted her attempt to place it on his head. "I do not wish to be mistaken for a Christmas character of ANY kind."

"Grinch," Nyota accused, grinning. She did put the hat down, but immediately moved onto another.

Spock scanned through the wares looking for something less attention getting. There were some court jester style hats with unstuffed points draping downwards that, although garish in style, were at least reasonable in colour scheme. He picked out one that was an unusually subdued colour combination of grey and black. As he was considering putting it back, he saw a group of mothers and children approaching from the far end of the mall.

Perhaps trying it on for fit would be a good idea. Nyota did a double take when she turned around with another hat for him to try only to find him standing there, fleece court jester hat pulled down over his ears and brow, bell-tipped points hanging to his shoulders. Spock glanced over at the approaching test subjects.

"Oh," Nyota said.

The gaggle of children passed without giving Spock a second glance. He lined up to pay the vendor.

"I will take this one," Spock told him, indicating the hat he was wearing. Just as the vendor finished inputting his order, Spock grabbed another one off the display. "Also, this one."

The vendor gave him an odd look, but rang up the sale.

"Do you want that one wrapped?" The vendor asked as Spock swiped his credit chit.

"No."

Nyota chose this moment to join Spock at the till. She gaped at the second hat on the counter.

"Don't tell me you're buying that one."

"I am."

"But why?"

Spock turned to Nyota, and without ceremony placed the red fleece Santa hat with attached stuffed elf ears firmly on her head.

At her shocked look, he said, "I believe the expression is: Misery loves company."

"Okay, I deserved that."

"Are you sure you don't want to buy some chocolate for later?" Nyota waved a dark chocolate Santa Claus at him.

"I believe you are sufficiently intoxicating that chemical assistance is unnecessary."

"Good answer."

They wandered though the chocolatier, Nyota choosing various small items with seasonal motifs to complete her gift shopping until they came to the displays of boxed chocolates.

"Maybe your parents would like some chocolate."

_No_.

"What? You don't think your parents ever get a little bit wild?"

"No."

"So your mom couldn't possibly think that your dad needs a little, uh, loosening up?"

Nyota had loosened Spock up once. The idea of his parents doing the same was not something he wanted to contemplate.

"No," he said emphatically.

She looked at him skeptically. "I suppose you also think you were conceived through immaculate conception."

"I was."

"Spock!"

"Genetic engineering and in vitro fertilization."

"Oh." After a beat, she added, "Well, it's inconceivable that they don't—"

"Nyota."

"Yes?"

"While it may be conceivable, I do not wish to conceive of it."

"What?"

He failed to see how he was being unclear.

"_Oh_. Mental image?"

"I am attempting to avoid one."

"Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Okay, new topic." She continued lingering over the boxed chocolates. "Maybe a small box for just your mom?"

Spock gave her a look that he generally reserved for unprepared cadets who were severely trying his patience.

"Hear me out. Think of it as just food. Really, really good food. A delicacy that she can't get on Vulcan."

Well, perhaps in that context it was not a terrible idea.

"Your dad doesn't even have to know about it. I mean, the Christmas gift is really for her, right?"

"What would you suggest?"

Nyota picked out a box that contained a selection of chocolates with various types of fillings. Spock paid and steered Nyota out of the chocolatier before they could become sidetracked.

* * *  
As they were passing a junction in the mall, Nyota stopped dead in her tracks, then retraced her steps. Nestled between stores was an unmanned automated kiosk. A large enclosed black stall with a red curtain and an interface to the side of it.

"Oh, this is too good to pass up."

"Nyota—"

"It won't take long."

Spock maintained his position, waiting for her to acquire whatever it was that the booth dispensed, but when she glanced back from the booth it became apparent that this was unsatisfactory to her.

"Come on, you'll like it."

_Unlikely._

She pulled the curtain aside, revealing a bench inside the booth with a screen across from bench.

"Entertainment?" Now seemed an odd time to stop and watch vids.

"Yup. Have a seat, I'll be there in a sec," she said, inserting her credit chit into the booth's interface.

Spock had barely sat down when Nyota joined him, sitting sideways on his lap even though the bench could, just barely, accommodate two. She slung her arm around his neck.

"You've never been in one of these, have you?"

"No."

She grinned. A flash of light filled the booth.

Spock opened his mouth to ask a question. A flash of light filled the booth.

Nyota kissed Spock. A flash of light filled the booth.

Spock kissed her back even though he recognized a delaying tactic when he was subjected to one. A flash of light filled the booth.

Their comms chimed simultaneously. There were no more flashes of light. There was more kissing.

A lot more.

An automated recording advised them to vacate the booth for other patrons. It was ignored.

The curtain was pulled aside, flooding the booth with light and revealing a red-faced human male.

"Fer Christ's sake, go rent a room. I've been waiting forever."

"We were just leaving," Nyota told him, glaring at him.

"You were waiting no more than 4.4 minutes," Spock informed him, correcting him because the man had exaggerated and not because he had interrupted a particularly enjoyable moment in an otherwise trying day.

"Perverts," he muttered as he herded three children under twelve into the booth. "Get yer butts in there and you better be smiling, I'm not paying for this twice."

When they were out of earshot, Nyota muttered that some people should not be allowed to be in charge of children. Spock was inclined to agree.

After a moment Nyota's mood lightened and she fished her comm out of her pocket.

"Want to see?" Without waiting for an answer, she flicked through the interface until she brought up a picture of her and Spock. In their newly purchased hats.

She flicked the screen and the next picture showed Spock, mouth open, staring at the camera with Nyota perched on his lap looking decidedly pleased with herself.

*Flick* Nyota kissing Spock.

*Flick* Spock kissing Nyota.

"I had the files sent to your comm too."

"I see." What else was there to say?


	2. Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

**Author's Note: **This may have crossed into grilled cheese territory. Apologies if this is so.

* * *  
"Last stop, honest," Nyota said as she led Spock into a shop that sold women's clothing and accessories.

He followed her in, packages in hand, as she perused the tables. Looking around, he realized that this was a store that sold a very limited array of women's clothing. Specifically, robes, nightgowns, undergarments and lingerie. There was an assortment of jewelry and other, for wont of a better term, accessories near the till but the rest of the store was decidedly … lacy.

He sincerely hoped Nyota was shopping for someone other than his mother in here. Even with his ears covered by his hat, he was getting curious stares from the other, female, shoppers.

"Nyota, why are we here?"

"I'm buying a gift for someone."

This seemed unlikely, but after some consideration he identified Gaila as the likely recipient of a gift from this store.

"What do you think of this?" Nyota held up a nightgown (he guessed) that would barely skim her thighs. Spock did not, for a moment, entertain the thought of how it would look on Gaila. Although white was a good colour for green skin.

_Focus._

"It is passable."

"Only passable? Hmm, okay." She continued perusing the racks, still holding onto the white garment and pulled out several more items but did not ask for further opinions. He pondered the intersection of Human and Orion cultural traditions that would culminate in this situation.

Lost in that thought, it took him some time to realize that Nyota was no longer shopping and that they were standing in a line up. Then Spock realized she was waiting to try on the clothing that she had picked out. Odd, considering that it was a gift, but perhaps there were aesthetic considerations he did not appreciate. When it was Nyota's turn, Spock stepped aside to wait for her only to have her usher him into the back with her.

"Nyota—"

"You can sit down. I might be a while," she said, following Spock into the cubicle. "Besides, I need a second opinion."

Perhaps there were merits to Christmas after all.

He sat down on the bench and deposited their packages beside him as Nyota stripped off her coat, hat, and boots and then set to work on her clothing. In short order, she was stripped down to her white panties and unhooking the white nightgown from its hanger. She slipped the garment over her head and examined herself at several different angles before turning to Spock.

"What do you think?"

Although the garment appeared to be opaque, it was actually several layers of diaphanous material that moved independently. From some angles it was almost virginal and from others, not so much. At the moment Nyota faced him directly, and it was decidedly not virginal.

"It has features I did not fully appreciate earlier."

"It's a little frilly, though."

Spock did not know how to respond to that.

"What criteria are you trying to satisfy?" He asked, dodging the white nightgown as Nyota discarded it and moved to the next item.

"I'll know it when I find it," she said, slipping on a black satin bra (soon discarded because it was too plain), a lavender lace bustier that did an admirable job of attracting attention to her breasts (at least Spock thought so, not that his attention needed attracting), and a form-fitting red stretch velvet teddy with soft white trim.

This last one she thinks about for some time, bending over, which provides a nice view of her posterior and likely a nice view of her other assets though Spock can't see them from where he is sitting.

"What do you think?"

Spock thinks many things in that moment, foremost in his mind is that he would much prefer it if Nyota was wearing nothing at all, however he doubts that this is what she is asking.

"It is seasonal," he offers. As she turns to examine another angle, he transfers one of their packages to his lap. The look on her face when she catches him out of the corner of her eye tells him that he has not been surreptitious enough. She stands in front of him and moves the package back to the bench.

"No opinion, huh?"

When Nyota emerges from the store, she is carrying a small bag—too small to hold any of the items she had been trying on for the last 23 minutes. When he asks about her purchase, she tells him that it is earrings for Gaila.

"So the time spent trying on garments was simply to test my control?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

_Humans._

More than an hour passes before they arrive home. A quick stop to pick up a food order turns into a 47-minute wait with too many customers in much too small of a space. The only redeeming element is that they manage to find seats after 14 minutes. With all their purchases in their laps to keep the bags from being trampled, no one notices—or likely cares since the customers were all human—that they were holding hands for the duration.

As soon as they arrive at his home and the door closes behind them, shutting out the rest of the world, Spock sets his sights on his objective.

It's not the food.

Nyota has beaten him to the kitchen (he assumes that at some point he will find the fastenings of his Terran boots intuitive, but that day is not today—or perhaps he is thinking of other things and that is why his fingers fumble at the laces).

She is at the counter, setting out the food, when he comes up behind her. She starts when she turns around to find him right behind her.

"Hungry?"

"In a manner of speaking." He leans forward and runs a finger along her jaw, dipping down along her neck. "You have been teasing me."

"Have I?"

"Yes."

"I guess that puts me on the naughty list. I always suspected Santa of sending elves to check his list twice."

She wraps her arms around his waist and pulls him a little closer so that his hips are flush against her body.

"And I am the elf in this scenario?"

"I think we pretty much established you're the elf today."

It is the only moment today that he is, in fact, willing to indulge the notion that he is an elf.

"And how do you propose that I determine whether you are, in fact, naughty or nice?"

"You're a genius. I'm sure you'll figure something out."

He can, in fact, conceive of a number of ways of testing the hypothesis.

"Hmm, is that a candy cane in your pocket? Or are you just happy to see me?" She nips his ear and then adds, for good measure: "Elf."

"Candy cane, Nyota?" It's not that he has an ego to maintain, but purely in the interest of accuracy he feels the need to correct her. She kisses him to shut him up and it's a while before the conversation continues. He's not the only one who's been teased all day.

He lifts her up onto the counter, putting her at a more comfortable kissing height. The fact that her legs can wrap around his waist is an entirely foreseeable and intended benefit.

"I'm sorry, did I say candy cane?"

"You did."

"I, of course, meant Yule log."

He's not certain what a Yule log would be, but it sounds bigger. In fact, it sounds uncomfortable, from both a male and female perspective. Perhaps a Human male would be flattered at the implied compliment, however he finds this comparison as inaccurate as the last. He is about to say so when Nyota preempts him, giving him a look that suggests he not pursue accuracy at this particular moment.

"Are you suuure, it's not a candy cane? I only ask," she says, entwining one of her hands in his and guiding it to her face, "because I really, really like candy canes. They're really fun to lick."

This is followed by a demonstration … on his finger.

"And suck," she adds, furthering her demonstration. He can feel his pulse in his finger as the blood pools at the tip. "And nip."

"Your point is taken," he says, rescuing his finger and divesting himself of his turtleneck and thermal shirt. He slides his hands under her sweater dress pushing it up along her thighs. With a little help from Nyota, he gets it up to her waist but as he pulls it up over her head, he pauses when he sees what is underneath: a stretch velvet teddy with soft white trim and a satin bow.

In green.

The white trim is feathery under his touch; the green velvet smooth except where his touch elicits a reaction.

"Spock?" Nyota asks, her voice somewhat muffled by the rolls of sweater around her head. "It's tradition to finish unwrapping a present before playing with it."

The sweater is quickly removed. Not being one to trifle with tradition, Spock promptly removes the rest of her street clothing. And makes to move on to his own clothes.

"You're supposed to let a girl open her own packages," Nyota points out capturing his hand with one of hers and using her other hand to investigate her gift.

"Were you intending on waiting until the 25th to do so?" He was uncomfortable in his pants before and Nyota's caresses are not improving matters.

"Oh, I think I'll get to open this one a couple of times before Christmas yet."

"That is a near certainty."

"You certainly give as good as you get," Nyota says, from her side of the bed. Seeing the look he gives her, she adds, "Presents, that is. Never mind."

Amused by her own joke, Nyota begins giggling.

"Nyota, has it ever occurred to you that the fact that I do not find a comment humorous is not a reflection of my lack of comedic appreciation but rather an indictment of the attempt at humour?"

This, at least, puts an end to the giggles. Nyota tries to parse his sentence, but in her post-orgasmic haze she gives up and instead opts for "What?"

"Your comment was not humorous."

Her response is to lazily wallop Spock in the face with her pillow.

"Childish," he admonishes, capturing the pillow before it can be reused.

"Effective," she counters, grinning. "So, are you starting to like Christmas yet?"

"It comprises a number of illogical and contradictory traditions."

"Not the question."

"It does have its favourable aspects," he says, tracing the lines in the palm of her hand.

"Yes, it does." As further response, his hand is directed elsewhere.


End file.
